Sledding
by Optimistically-Hopeless
Summary: America has a surprise for England, but England isn't all too thrilled once he finds out. Just a cute fluffy one shot. USUK! Rated T for language and yaoi. :D


Hey everyone! I meant to get this up before Christmas and New Years but… it just didn't happen. XD It's still a cute story though, so it's all good! If you've read **Curses!** This could be taken as a little add-on, but it isn't necessarily… just depends on how you want to look at it. :D

I hope you like it! Please review! :D

x-x-x-x-x

"Would you like to explain to me again just why the bloody hell we are doing this?" England asked, not caring to cover up his rising irritation. Here he was in the dead of winter, America pulling him through a tight trail in the foot-high snow. America had barely left enough time for him to even grab a coat before he had dragged him outside of his warm house into the beyond frigid outside. He really hoped on America's behalf that this was important—if not, no one would be able to recognize the body once he was through with him.

America shot him a far too happy grin. "Because I have something epically epic to show you!" he said, squeezing England's hand. "We're almost there, don't worry."

England held back an agitated growl—he hated surprises. Especially America's surprises. Yes, America always meant well, but sometimes the git really didn't know what was and wasn't acceptable. Somehow he had once thought that England would enjoy it if he made a twenty-pound burger just for him. Upon looking at the monstrosity, England wondered just how many cows had been slaughtered to make such a thing. He then reminded America of just how much he despised burgers of any size. After an immense amount of pouting on America's part, England had decided to eat part of it, but there had been no bloody way that England would have eaten all of it. Not that America minded though. He ate the whole thing (minus England's small slice) in a matter of hours—and somehow didn't get sick. England had decided that he would never know how America kept all of the rubbish he ate in his stomach—it was a complete mystery to the world.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to convince America to change his mind, England just kept walking with him, returning the squeeze to his hand. It still felt weird to be able to hold his hand and not worry about it. They had finally began dating about a month ago, and America—with his openness about everything—had made it his duty to tell every living soul about it. England had wanted to strangle him because of this, but, at the same time, was in an odd way thankful. At least everyone knew now, so England didn't really have to hide anything for once.

"Could you at least tell me what it is?" England pushed, speeding up his pace to get closer to America and his warmth. "I really don't like not knowing what's going on."

"Aw, just wait another five minutes," America said, slowing his pace down to England's. "We're almost there, and then you'll know what it is."

England gave him a little glare as he laid his head against America's shoulder. "It better be good, you wanker."

He felt America's free hand pat his head lightly. "It's good, trust me," he said.

They continued to walk through the frigid weather, staying close to keep warm. England kept his complaints to himself, hoping that whatever America had in store would be worth being this freezing cold.

Finally, after walking for a few more minutes, America slowed his pace. England looked up at him, wondering why he had stopped. America looked down at him, a smile on his face. "We're here!" he said, pointing over to his right.

England followed his finger to see the ground sloping down at a precarious angle. It was covered with snow and ice, looking slippery and dangerous. Why on earth would America want to bring him here of all places?

Then England saw, on the edge of the slope, a large sled.

"We're gonna go sledding!" America cheered, grabbing England by both hands, jumping up and down excitedly. "Dude, it's gonna be so fun! I've heard so many people talking about this hill! People have said that they go so fast! I even heard that one person broke their arm because of how fast they were going when they crashed! Dude, it's totally sweet!" He continued laughing enthusiastically until he took a good look at England's face—which happened to be full of terror.

"N-no!" he said, pulling his hands out of America's. "I don't to do such a hazardous activity! How the hell did you think that this would be something that I would like?"

America stared at him for a minute, seeming surprised by his words. "Well," he said with a shy smile, "I thought you'd like it because we'd be doing it together. That's all."

England felt himself blush at the simplicity of America's reasoning. He gave a small sigh, annoyed by how America was always able to win these kinds of fights. He slid his hand back into America's giving him an annoyed glance. "Fine," he said. "But if I break a bone, I will strangle you. Just so you know."

Damn that smile of his. Whenever America smiled, England would feel himself melt to his will, no matter how ridiculous it was. Even before they had admitted their love for one another, a simple smile would make England reconsider everything he had said. He had no idea why it had so much power over him, but he knew that he couldn't do a thing about it.

"Let's go sled!" America said, pulling England by the hand. "This is gonna be so much fun!" England let himself be pulled along as he took a closer inspection of the hill. It was a long way down and had to be around a forty-five degree angle. It didn't look exactly smooth either, meaning it was going to be bumpy. He tried to remain calm, but England could feel his heart rate increasing. What if he or America got injured?

"Hey, England," America said, pulling the sled back. "How about you sit in the front? I'm good at keeping on, so I can help you stay on." England cringed—great, America could sense his fear. England was going to talk about how un-nervous he was until America added, "Plus, you'll be warmer."

England glanced at him. "Warmer?" he questioned.

America smiled. "Yeah!" he said. "I'll have to hold on to the reins, and I'll have my arms around you!"

England looked away as he blushed. "F-fine," he answered, crossing his arms. "If I must," he added stubbornly, not wanting to let America think he would be pleased by this.

Rolling his eyes, America sat himself on the sled, leaving space in front of him. America looked up at him expectantly. "C'mon," he said, patting the space before him. "Let's do this!"

England pursed his lips, still nervous. Carefully, he set himself in front of America, his back pressed against America's chest. His hips fit comfortably between his legs that were pressed against the sides of the sled, feeling himself flush at the contact between them. Then America's arms went around him, grabbing the reins of the sled. America had been right—he _was_ warm.

"Ready to go?" America asked, making England shiver as he spoke in his ear. Feeling a little pathetic, he gripped America's arms closer to his body, trying to calm himself. Sensing his worry, America wrapped around him, soft laughter escaping him. "I'll protect you, Iggy," he said, nuzzling his face against England's cheek.

England huffed. "Do _not_ call me Iggy," England said, lightly elbowing America. But he did have to admit that he was a little calmer now. He took a quick breath, then nodded. "Let's go."

He felt America nod against his head as he removed his arms from him. America placed his hands on both sides of the sled and pushed them forward. England felt his heart clench as he gripped the sides of the sled. He was really going to do this! He was about to ask America to stop for a moment until America gave one more push, and England felt the front of the sled tip. An undignified cry escaped him as the sled started its descent down the slope.

Air rushed past them as they gained speed, England no longer caring how pathetic he sounded as he screamed. He had been right—it was not smooth. He felt his stomach lurch every time they hit a bump, his hands gripping desperately to whatever he could hold on to. America's body rumbled with laughter behind him, his arms warm around him. Adrenalin was pumping through England's veins, making everything around him almost surreal. Then as quickly as it had started, the sled began to slow down as the slope lessened until the ground was once again flat. Finally, they came to a complete stop, England now able to stop crying out in fear.

"Dude, that was freakin' awesome!" America yelled, his arms pumping into the air. He continued to laugh as England remained still, frozen because of the cold and from fright. He was roused though when America poked him in the side. "Hey," he said, "could you let go of my legs? It's kind of hurting."

England jumped as he looked down at his hands. He hadn't even realized that, as they had been going down the hill, he had grabbed onto America's legs just above the knee so hard his knuckles had turned white. He gave a weak apology as he released his legs, feeling painfully returning to his hands.

"You okay?" America asked, his arms wrapping around England's waist. England took a huge breath as he let his body loosen, leaning back against America. He took America's hands, closing his green eyes.

"I'm okay," he answered, laying his head against America's shoulder. "Just not used to being so excited, that's all."

America laughed, tightening his grip around England. "Yeah, man," he said, his voice upbeat, "you were screaming your head off! I haven't seen you that freaked out since France showed up naked to the Olympics!"

England shuddered, closing his eyes tighter. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm still mentally scarred because of that."

"So," America said slowly. "Do you wanna go again?"

England turned around to glare at him. "Why do you insist on trying to give me cardiac arrest?"

America gave a laugh ruffling his hair. "Aw, c'mon," he said, pulling England ever closer to him. "It had to be at least kinda fun!"

"What's fun about thinking you're going to crash and die?" England asked begrudgingly. He saw America's face upon this reaction and sighed in defeat. "Could I at least have a little bit of a break before we go through that bloody madness again?"

Immediately, America brightened up. "Yeah, a break sounds good," he said happily. He grabbed England as he pulled the both of them up, making England blush—he didn't always have to remind him how much stronger America was than him. America pointed out steps that were provided to get back to the top of the hill as he grabbed the sled. With that, they began their ascent back up.

Having been in such close contact with America, England had gotten quite warm, the man being like a furnace. But now that they were apart, England was even colder than before. He shivered slightly, but refused to say anything. He wasn't going to admit that he needed help—it just wasn't something he did. He crossed his arms, trying to reduce his shivering, but it simply increased as the temperature continued to drop. Almost three-fourths up the hill, America finally took notice of this.

"Whoa, dude," he said, taking a sudden stop. England looked up, feeling even his teeth chatter. He tried to give him a look of confidence, but if anything, it just made America more doubtful. America wrapped his arm around England's shoulders as he drew him close. "Dude, you gotta tell me if you're freezing that bad! I can't let you die from hypothermia!"

England chuckled, instantly huddling closer to him. "Wow, you used a word that was longer than three syllables," England teased, his voice still uneven from the cold.

"I have my moments of brilliance," America replied, flashing a smile at him. Already England was warming up, his shivering going down. America smiled at this as they finally reached the top. His hand released the sled's reins as he continued to pull England alongside him.

England was trying to think of something to keep them preoccupied so they would hopefully not have to go down the cursed hill again when he heard a zipping sound. He turned his head to inspect what was going on when he felt himself get pushed against America. He nearly moaned in pleasure—we was so _warm_. He felt America's coat envelope him as America zipped it back up over him. "There," America said, laying a hand on England's head. "You'll be warmed up in no time!"

His muscles loosened up by the newly found warmth, finally able to function correctly. England's arms snaked around America, hands gripping the back of his shirt. "H-how do you stay so damn warm all the time?" he asked, laying his head against America's chest. "Honestly, I don't understand."

"Well, you see, there's this natural resource called _awesomeness_," America explained with a straight face. "I just happen to be full of it."

England laughed. "Yeah, you're definitely full of _something_."

"Oh, you're going to insult the person warming you up?" America asked with a smirk. England felt the coat begin to unzip, cold rushing in.

He gasped, the cold feeling like a knife. "Don't!" he said, gripping America tighter. "Okay, okay, sorry you git."

"You're still calling me a git," America said, continuing to unzip the warmth. "I want a real apology. With some begging. And no more insults! Or maybe you could—" Before he could taunt him any further, England shut him up by pressing his lips against his.

When he had planned on kissing America to make him shut up, he had meant for it to be a rough peck and that was all. However, his lips were almost unbearably warm against his own. The initial peck suddenly turned into much more than he had intended as America took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. A pathetic needy moan escaped England's throat as he felt America's tongue run up against his lips. He thought his lips were warm, but his tongue was scorching! He immediately welcomed him in, loving the sudden warmth in his mouth.

England quickly lost time of how long they stood there kissing, feeling his body finally becoming warm again. However, he was quickly finding himself getting a bit too warm in the coat. Though they had been dating for a while, he still didn't know just how to say he was done kissing. He couldn't just pull away—that'd be rude, wouldn't it? But he wasn't really either to talk with his tongue so occupied at the moment. Was there some sort of secret code or something?

Before he could figure it out though, America, being America, simply pulled away without a moment's notice, letting saliva carelessly fall on England's chin, quickly becoming cold. Yes, they had snogged quite a few times, but England still didn't like having spit on his face, especially if it wasn't his own. "You're hot," America blurted. England looked at him, a little startled. America must have realized what he said, and just laughed it off, adding, "Temperature wise. You're _warm._ Though, I have to admit, I do have a pretty smexy boyfriend."

Blood rushed up to England face as he begrudgingly wiped the spit off his face. "You really need to figure out how to kiss me without slobbering everywhere," he complained, not liking the moist feeling on his sleeve. "If we're going to snog like that, I at least want to do it with some finesse."

America just shrugged off the complaint as he unzipped his coat from England. The cold bit into him, but he felt better now that he was able to feel his fingers. "So," America said, smiling that cocky smile of his, "wanna go sledding again?"

England glared at him, wanting nothing more than to just go home to his nice warm house. "Not really," he answered, "but knowing you, you're going to make me do it anyway."

"Yup!" America chirped as he grabbed England by the hand and pulled him alongside him. "Just one more time, that's all I'm asking for! Please?"

"Seeing as you're already forcing me to," England muttered, "I guess we can. Idiot."

"Yay!" America cried, basically skipping as he dragged England behind him. England was less than happy, but he figured he would just have to suck it up and deal with it—America was just as stubborn as he was. Besides, being able to sit so close to America wasn't something to complain about.

Much too soon for England's liking, he found himself on the sled once again, America all too eager to go flying down the hill at deadly speeds. Even though he hadn't really come close to falling off before, England was clinging onto America for dear life before the sled had even been pushed towards the lip of the hill. America chuckled at this, receiving an elbow to the stomach.

"You just need to relax," America said, laying his hands on England's shoulders. "Nothing bad is going to happen! We're not going to tip, we're not going to crash. And if we do, I'll make sure you don't get hurt, I promise."

"You can't promise that!" England said, glaring back at him. "How are you going to make sure I don't get hurt, idiot?"

America simply smiled at him, making some of England's anger recede. "I'll hold you. I'll be a cushion. Okay?"

England laughed at this. "You would be one hell of a cushion, what with all of those hamburgers."

"Hey!" America yipped, lightly smacking his head. "Dude, be grateful! You get all of this pure sexiness to yourself! You should be crying with joy!"

Refraining from making anymore insults, England took in a breath of cold air, trying to calm himself. Slightly loosening his grip on America's legs, he released his breath. "Okay," he said with a small nod. "Let's get this over with."

"Let's do it!" The feeling of the sled moving forward made England jolt, but he held his breath, his body going stiff. He wasn't going to run away from this! He was doing this! He was Britain—_Great_ Britain! He could do this!

Even with trying to reassure himself, a sad little yelp escaped him as the tip of the sled went down, sending the sled off once again. For quite a while, he was able to keep himself from screaming—until he heard America behind him say, "Oh _crap_!"

Before he could try to figure out what was wrong, England felt the side of the sled hit something, sending them flipping sideways, A pathetic scream ripped its way out of England as, with all of his might, he grabbed onto America's legs. He felt America's arms immediately wrap around him as they went air born. Everything was blurred, England not sure what was going on, where the ground was. However, he quickly figured out where the ground was as his face crashed into it. Hard. With America landing on top of him, only shoving his face farther into the icy ground. All he could see was stars as he tried to figure out if he was still alive or not. As he came to, he figured that, since his face hurt like hell, he was still alive. Damn it.

"Dude, are you okay?" America's voice was panicked, and England felt himself being shaken around by his shoulders. He finally forced his eyes open to see he was now lying on his back, just in front of America's lap. He couldn't make out many more details, everything still spinning slightly.

"How much of my face is left?" England asked weakly, feeling as if he looked back, he would see parts of it stuck to the ground. Half of him didn't even want to know what he looked like right now with how he felt—it wasn't going to look pretty.

America paused slightly—never a good sign. "Your face is still there," he answered. "But…well…you're going to need a few band-aids. Maybe a tiny bit of stitching… Skin grafts would be a good idea too…"

"WHAT?"

America laughed, making the Brit want to stab him. "Hah, sorry, the skin grafts part was a joke. But your face is pretty scraped up… and it doesn't look like your nose is broken, but it's bleeding."

England glared at him, not at all amused by his 'joke.' He touched his face gingerly just below his nose, and felt moisture there. He fingers came away slightly red. He was still pissed about it, but he was glad that at least it wasn't gushing blood.

"So, besides it being freezing and us crashing," America said as he quickly scooped England up in his arms, surprising England—why did he always have to rub it in his face about how much stronger he was than him? "Did you have fun?"

Fun: something that provides mirth or amusement. At first, he was going to shout "_Hell no_!" as he punched America in the face. But, being an idiot, he thought about flying down the hill and clinging to his America. With a huge huff, he growled, "Besides not being able to feel anything in my face besides excruciating pain… I guess it was somewhat enjoyable."

America seemed surprised that England hadn't blown up at him, but he quickly replaced his surprise with a smile. "That's good," he said, kissing him on the forehead. "Hold on for a second," he said, jerking his head to the side. "I need to grab the sled and I don't want to drop you."

England cocked an eyebrow (which, much to his dislike, only made America snicker). "You don't have to carry me," he said, crossing his arms stubbornly. "It's not like I broke my leg, I just hurt my face."

"But I wanna carry you!" America argued, holding him tighter. "It's fun carrying you around!" Not waiting for England to come back with any sarcastic remarks, he took an arm away to grab the sled. Not having any other choice, England found himself grabbing recklessly at America's shoulders, not wanting to hit the ground again.

"You damn git!" he hissed, his heart pounding from the sudden almost-drop. "Surely you should remember some of the manners I taught you when you growing up!"

The reins now in hand, America returned his hand to England's back to hold him up. "Yup, I do!" he answered. "I learned all my manners from you: yell at someone if you disagree with them; never give in even if you're wrong; if you don't like someone, hit them…"

"Oh shut it," England grumbled. How he hated it when America used insulting facts against him.

America just laughed at him as he continued to carry him, nuzzling his face against England's. "Aw, I love you, Artie!"

Yes, sometimes America was a completely idiotic, tactless, oblivious tosser. But, even after all of the stupid things he did and was sure to do in the future, England wrapped his arms around the American's neck. "I love you too, fool."

x-x-x-x-x

England hissed at the pain, pressing a fist against his temple as he clenched his teeth. "Get it out already!"

"Dude, I'm trying!" America answered, his face becoming set with concentration. "It's really stuck in there, man! Just calm down."

"I'm not going to calm down," England answered stubbornly—or at least as stubbornly as he could while being in such pain. "Just pull harder—OW! N-no, you're pushing it in deeper, idiot!"

"Maybe if you relaxed, I could actually get it out!" America argued. "Just stay still. Stop moving!"

"But it bloody hurts!" England complained, twitching slightly under his touch. "Just pull it out already!"

"Stop whining and take it like a man!"

"Don't you _dare _talk to me like—Haaah! Ow!"

"It's almost out! Just calm down, I'm almost done."

"H-hurry up then! I can't take it anymore! Aah! Hnn! Just do it!"

"Almost there… AH! I got it!" America said triumphantly as he pulled out the splinter. "Damn, that was in there pretty deep!"

England pulled his hand back, massaging the skin where the splinter had penetrated it. "That bloody hurt!" he grumbled. "You really need to practice using tweezers—it's not that difficult."

"You're welcome," America murmured, pouting at England's abundance of ungratefulness. England wanted to smack him whenever he pouted like this; it was so pathetic! Then again, seeing as he had just gone through all the trouble to bandage his wounds, he should be more thankful.

"I'm sorry," England said, staring off at the corner of the room. "Thank you."

Immediately, America brightened up. "Aw, it's okay!" he said as he quickly an arm around the smaller country's shoulders. "I'm used to you being kind of a jerk, but hey, you're my jerk!"

England shot a little glare of disapproval at his comment, but decided to ignore it as he grabbed his hand held mirror America had brought out earlier. He looked at his face and slightly cringed. A large patch of gauze covered his right cheek with three band-aids on his left. His nose luckily hadn't been broken, but he could still smell blood. He had gotten a few minor scratches on his hand and a splinter from when America had been carrying him and had magically not noticed the branch that would have hit England in the face if he hadn't put his hands up to protect himself. He sometimes really worried about America and his observational skills.

"This is going to be fun to explain to Cameron tomorrow," England complained, daring to touch his face, ending up with him jumping from how sensitive it still was.

America seemed shocked by this. "Wait," he said, giving England a horrified expression. "You're meeting with your Prime Minister tomorrow? And you have to go like _that_?"

England scoffed at him. "Wow, you're an observant one, aren't you?" he commented snidely.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" America said, wrapping England in a painfully tight hug. "I had no idea! If I had known, I wouldn't have—well, okay, that's a complete lie, but I'm sorry!"

Still not completely comfortable with physical contact, England awkwardly patted him on the back. "It's fine," he said, though it wasn't exactly. "I'll just tell him that I got into a little accident, that's all."

America drew back from the hug, looking a little less distressed. "Okay," he said. "I really am sorry though."

England just shrugged it off as he laid his head on America's shoulder. "It's fine. I'm sure it'll be better in the morning. I need sleep, is all."

"Okay then," America said, suddenly getting up. "I'll leave then. Night, Artie."

However, America didn't get very far as England grabbed onto his wrist. "No," England said, pulling him back. "I wasn't telling you to leave, idiot! Just stay for the night, it's late!"

America looked back at him, a little surprised at the offer. After a moment though, a smile slowly spread across his face. "Okay," he said, suddenly pulling England up out of his seat. He then purred, "Let's go to bed then."

England blushed slightly, a little startled by the tone of America's voice. But a small smile of his own formed on his face. "Don't think that because I'm injured that I'm going to go easy on you."

A smirk placed itself on America's lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

x-x-x-x-x

Aww, fluffedy-fluff-fluff! :D Oh, and don't believe me about the 20 pound burger? http: / foodbeast . com /content/2008/10/27/180-lb-man-eats-20-lb-burger/ (w/o spaces of course) –sigh- Only in America. XD

Sorry if the later part of the chapter seemed kind of rushed. I was just ready to be done with this. XD I think it's okay, but I really couldn't come up with more story, and I had already made it longer than I had initially intended… but I hope you liked it anyways! :D

Please review! :D I'll give you a cookie if you do! ^_^


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